


Winning Hands

by Glitteringworlds



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gambling, Wicked Grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitteringworlds/pseuds/Glitteringworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every game of Wicked Grace brings something new, but a challenge to Varric makes this one particularly interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning Hands

"Last hand for the night?"

Josephine smiled as she dealt the cards. "Tired already, Varric? Or just trying to cut your losses?"

"Oooh, that hurts, Ruffles. And neither, actually. Busy. Some of us do have jobs outside of the Inquisition, you know."

Across the table, Cassandra snorted.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"That means the Josephine works more in a day than you probably have in your entire life."

"And still has enough energy left to take all your money," Josephine added. She had finished dealing and fanned out her hand in front of her, eyes peeking out over the top to survey everyone else at the table. Varric didn't pick his up, just lifted them off the table enough that he could see what they were. He smirked, throwing a few silvers into the center.

"It's not about the amount of work, Seeker, it's the quality. I've got to be well rested to write the sort of high-caliber stories that my fans know and love." He said the last part with a wink in her direction.

"Ah yes," Dorian chimed in, matching Varric's bet. "High-caliber stories. How did your last one start? Something about legs that went on for miles, curves in all the right places, blonde hair that-"

"Okay Sparkler, I'm cutting you off before you embarrass yourself. You've got it all wrong. There's no finesse there. When you introduce your characters, you've got to do it with style. A bit at a time. A detail here, a detail there... set the scene, tantalize them. Make them want more. Make them need-"

"Is that strictly necessary?"

"Aww, what's wrong, Seeker? Don't like it?"

"Just because you... make something sound sexual, that doesn't automatically make it more interesting."

At her left, the Iron Bull leaned forward. "I don't know about that. He's got me interested."

Cassandra simply rolled her eyes, looking over her cards again as the bet came around to her. She had already lost a fair bit that night, but she could have sworn she saw Dorian drum his fingers when he first looked at his hand, and that had to be a tell, right? She glanced down at her cards. Of course, she wasn't sure if her's was any better.

Oh well, it's not as if they were betting for much anyways. As long as it was money on the table, she was fine. She wasn't about to make Cullen's mistake. Cassandra placed her silvers on the center of the table.

"If you are oh so talented then Varric, why not prove it?" Dorian had leaned forward too, a wicked grin on his face. "Right here."

"You can't force genius, Sparkler."

In his corner, Blackwall grunted once. "Stage fright, eh? I've seen recruits get that plenty of times. Fine on their own, but they freeze up as soon as they are put on the spot."

Cassandra smiled down into her cards, trying to hide her face in them. Blackwall didn't speak up much during their games, but he had a way of goading people on when he felt like it. Though Cassandra was never quite sure if he did it intentionally, or if he simply happened to have very lucky timing.

"I don't... fine, you want a demonstration? Give me someone to describe."

"What," Bull interjected. "Can't come up with something on your own?"

"Oh I can, Tiny, it's just less fun."

"Do Josephine then." Cassandra was surprised to hear Cullen join the conversation. He had been rather quite up until then. But he had just folded, maybe he was looking for some entertainment while he waited for the round to finish. "She seems like she could be in on of your books. Some kind of political thriller."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or flattered."

"Oh, well, I didn't mean it as-"

Josephine smiled at him, full of charm. "It was merely a joke. Go ahead, Varric. I'm curious how you would describe me."

With that, Josephine flipped an extra silver into the pile where it landed with a perfect clatter.

Varric leaned back in his chair, eyeing her up. He looked genuinely thoughtful, and a quiet fell over the table as they waited. Even Cassandra, despite her best efforts to stay out of the conversation, found herself leaning forward a bit. Josephine, for her credit, only blushed a little under the scrutiny.

"With Ruffles... I'd have to start with the smile. A smile that could light up the room, though you'd never know if she did it for you, or the fellow across the bar. Of course, everyone would hope it was for them. The swish of fabric, yes, that's important. The way she weaves through a crowd, touching an elbow here, a shoulder there... fingers lingering on someone's back as she brushed by. And then," Varric finished, pausing for dramatic effect, "I'd say that she was a dirty rotten liar who was bluffing out her ass."

The whole table fell back into their seats at once. Josephine, hand delicately resting on her chest, dissolved into giggles.

"That was not half-bad," she finally said, pulling herself back up. "Not at all. But you would never want to touch that many people if you were really trying to play the Game. Each touch has to mean something. Fingers trailing down someone's back... why, in Orlais, that would practically be a scandal in and of itself."

Varric shrugged. "It's about the spirit of things, not the accuracy. A description like that, I've got all my readers hooked. They've got to know more about this mysterious woman. That's what matters. Anyway, I did get one thing right. You are bluffing."

Varric called her bet, and added two more silvers of his own, holding Josephine's gaze the whole time.

"She's easy though," Bull said, as Dorian skeptically examined his hand and the growing pile of silvers. "What about me? Think you could do me justice?" He flexed a little as he spoke, enjoying the attention of the table.

"A whole series of books couldn't do you justice. Besides, I'd want to keep you simple. Talk about the muscles, the size, the eyepatch of course... make people think that they know all about you, that there's nothing more to see. Then," Varric said, slamming his hand down on the table, "in the last chapter it turns out you were behind the murder from the start, and you've been lying to the man you were helping with the investigation. You frame him, and-"

Bull waved aside the rest of Varric's sentence. "Yeah, yeah I get the idea. You've always got to go for the scandal and surprise, don't you? No subtlety. A real spy wouldn't show all their cards right before the finale. That just gives people the chance to beat you at your own game."

"But that's the point. The hero has to make one last stand against the forces of evil, right before the end."

"I still say it's sloppy spy-work."

"And that," Varric muttered, "is why I'm never writing you into my books."

Cassandra eyed the table. The bet had passed to her again, Dorian having folded, and the Bull having called. She cursed internally. Dorian had been the only one who she had thought she had the upper hand on. The rest of them were blank slates. Sighing, she matched the bet and hoped for the best.

The betting continued around the table, Cassandra tuning out the continuing bickering between Varric and the Bull as she watched Blackwall. She had just convinced herself that he had to have a good hand when he shrugged his shoulders and folded.

So much for that.

Josephine folded as well, grinning guiltily. "I suppose I cannot argue with our expert writer over there. Besides, I still think I will have won the evening once this is through."

It was Varric's turn when Dorian spoke up.

"So if Josephine is too easy, and the Bull is too simple, what about someone like..." He paused, searching the table. Cassandra had been staring down at her hand, but when she looked up, she saw that his eyes were locked on her. She tried to shake her head at him, but his grin only widened.

"Someone like Cassandra?"

She looked over at Varric, who was grinning as well. He placed another three silvers onto the pile.

"The Seeker, eh? Now there's a hard one. She's blunt, but that's boring."

"Why thank you Varric," Cassandra deadpanned. "You certainly know how to charm a girl."

"Now hold on," Varric said, holding up his hands defensively. "I'm not done. I just mean that a blunt description wouldn't fit you, despite what you might expect."

"So what would fit then?"

Varric tugged at his chin, holding her gaze. Cassandra didn't want to give him the victory of her looking away first, but she could feel a blush deepening in her cheeks as he stared her down. What was he searching for? Something more interesting than blunt? She wasn't more interesting than blunt. Unlike him, she saw the value of honesty.

Of course, she was more than aware that such a thing made her rather ill-suited for Varric's pulpy tales of intrigue and betrayal.

"Her eyes."

Varric smiled at her, a different sort of smile than before, almost apologetic, or kind, or hopeful, she couldn't quite be sure.

"I'd start with her eyes. They're passionate, relentless, unforgiving. But you catch them at the right angle, and it's like they are looking right through you. Cutting to the best part of you. They're never quite soft, but they're inviting, and maybe she smiles, and it's poison to the open wound, but you're happier for the sting."

The hush was slower to dissolve this time around.

Cullen nudged her arm. "Cassandra. It's your turn to bet."

Cassandra looked over at Cullen blankly for a moment, trying to reorient herself. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and the only word she could hold onto was "why."

Something had twisted up inside of her, tighter and tighter until it broke, but she was staring at the broken pieces and she couldn't for the life of her remember what it had been before it shattered.

Betting.

It was her turn to bet.

Cassandra turned back to her hand. "What are we at?"

"Varric raised by three silvers," Josephine supplied helpfully, "and Bull folded."

"Right, right," Cassandra muttered, still gathering her thoughts. She stopped, frowning. "So does that mean..."

"Just you and me, Seeker." Varric was leaning forward, elbows on the table, chin set on his interlaced fingers. "What do you say? Think you've got the better hand?"

Cassandra glared at him, and down at her cards. She had no clue.

But she was't about to back down now.

Cassandra pushed her three silvers into the center of the table. At least no one there could ever accuse her of playing things too safe. Varric grinned, running his thumb over the top of his cards.

"Your loss," he said finally, a wicked smile on his face. In one motion, he flipped his cards over, fanning them across the table. Cassandra groaned. Four of a kind.

Flipping he own hand over, Cassandra buried her face in her hands.

"Holy shit Seeker, is that a straight flush?"

Cassandra looked up, staring at him through her fingers.

"Yes, it... does four of a kind not beat a straight flush?"

Josephine laughed, clearly delighted at this turn of events. Bull let out a low whistle, and Dorian clapped Varric on the back sympathetically.

Varric, for his part, was staring at her in a stunned silence. He looked back down at his hand, and up at her, shaking his head.

"Four of a kind definitely does not beat a straight flush."

Well. That was something, at least. Cassandra gathered up her winnings with a smile. Cullen patted her shoulder.

"Loan me some of your luck next time, okay?"

"This is the first time I've ever won, Cullen. I'm not sure you want my luck."

"Well, you aren't leaving here naked," Dorian said with a smug grin. "Which puts you one-up on his luck, at least."

"That wasn't bad luck, Dorian," Josephine said. "That was a man in over his head."

Cullen blushed, dipping his head and ignoring the commentary. "Well, in any case, congratulations. I don't think I've ever seen Varric this quiet."

Cassandra looked back to Varric, who was still staring at her. She met his eyes, and there was that smile again, creeping over his face. He nodded at her, once. "What can I say? It may have been pure, ridiculous luck, but you did beat me. Well played, Seeker."

He reached his hand across the table, and she took it after only a moment's hesitation. His fingers were callused and warm, and his hand engulfed hers. They shook, once, twice, firm and purposeful.

It was a moment that lodged itself firmly in Cassandra's thoughts as she walked back to her bed from the bar. An anchor that stretched up to his words from earlier, which still buoyed on the surface, soft and fizzing.

She smiled into the night air, feeling the weight of silvers at her side.

It was good to know, at least, that she hadn't left as the fool of that round. Whatever had started to unfurl inside, however awkward and confusing it was, she was happy to have finally won something. Sure, it was mostly an accident, but Maker if it wasn't a satisfying one. That was part of the evening she had no trouble being satisfied with.

Now she just had to figure out what to do about the rest it. 

\---

Later, much later, when all the awkwardness and confusion had faded into something more solid, into a hesitant ease, a hopeful familiarity, Cassandra asked him about it.

It came up during a conversation about flirting, and denial, and who had really been interested in whom first (Varric insisted that it had been him, but Cassandra felt it was her job to argue the point, and had been determined to lay out her case).

"That night," She said. "When you... described me, during our game of Wicked Grace."

"What about it?"

"Did you mean it to be... flirty?"

Varric frowned. "No, I. Huh. Hold on."

He tapped one finger on the table, as if putting together a puzzled that had long been bothering him. "I guess it was pretty flirty, wasn't it. Was that when you..."

"It was when I started to know, at least. The reaction it elicited brought forth some... questions, that I had difficulty answering."

"Wow."

"What is that supposed to mean? Am I to believe that all of that happened merely by chance? That it was unintentional?"

"No, no I guess... in hindsight, it was definitely flirting. I just don't think I knew it at the time."

"I cannot believe this." Cassandra shook her head. "All of this time, and you were merely running your mouth as you would to anyone."

Leaning in, Varric nudged her with his shoulder. "I wouldn't say that. I suppose you just inspire me more than I realize."

Cassandra was silent for a moment, and then muttered to herself. "Maker's breath."

"What was that?"

"I said," She replied more loudly, steadily meeting his gaze, "that it seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know how good their hand is at times."


End file.
